A Tale of Two Gamers
by Settiai
Summary: Saving the world of fake!Warcraft. That's what The Avengers do.


"Iron, look out!"

Steelshield flung himself at their mage, barely even noticing the rest of the fray happening around them. Lord Iron's hands were raised, the familiar blue amulet that he always wore glowing brightly in the center of his chest as he used his magic to lift several of their enemies high in the air and send them slamming back into the ground. His attention was focused solely on them, as it always was during a battle, and he seemed completely unaware of the danger coming at him from behind.

Luckily for him, Steelshield had learned a long time ago to always watch Lord Iron's back. For someone who was typically so aware of every tiny element of the world around him, it was almost amusing just how much Iron could miss when his attention was focused on something or someone specific.

Without hesitating, Steelshield flung the shield he carried at an elfin woman who was moments away from sending an arrow into Iron's exposed back. She was knocked off her feet, caught off guard by the unexpected move.

Steelshield made a rolling dive, grabbing his shield from where it had landed on the ground and bringing it up to cover him. He was just in time. Less than a second later, the elf's partner—a large barbarian who Steelshield swore must have had some giant in him—brought his heavy mace down straight onto Steelshield's shield. It pressed down heavily against his chest; if he had been a second slower, he would have been dead.

In the distance, Steelshield was aware of Warbird yelling and waving her sword around dangerously, trying to get the others to group together. "Have you never heard of 'divide and conquer,' you imbeciles?" she shouted. "What's the point of having a team if nobody's going to pay attention to anything that's going on around—"

She was cut off as Hawkeye tackled her, keeping her from being hit by the arrow that had been heading straight for her.

Warbird glared at him as Hawkeye climbed to his feet, giving her a mock bow. "You know, you're right," he said teasingly. "What's the point of having a team if nobody's going to pay attention to anything that's going on around them?"

Hawkeye swore as Warbird, smiling sweetly, suddenly reached out and grabbed one of the knives he kept hanging at his side. He ducked as she brought her arm back and threw the knife directly over his head, catching the rogue coming up behind him directly in the chest.

"You almost hit me!" Hawkeye exclaimed, even as he brought his bow up and started shooting at a berserker heading their way.

Warbird laughed.

Despite his situation, Steelshield couldn't help but chuckle; then he tore his attention away from his teammates and focused on himself instead. Beside him, the elf was pulling herself to her feet, cursing up a storm as she did. The barbarian took that as a cue to lift his mace and bring it down on Steelshield's chest again. It was angled this time, though; while the shield caught the worst of it, the edge of the weapon caught Steelshield's shoulder.

Steelshield let out a cry despite himself, flinching as blood from his shoulder splattered on his neck and face. It wasn't a serious wound, but it was enough to catch him off guard.

At the sound, Lord Iron spun around, his eyes going wide as he caught sight of Steelshield. He swore, loudly and much more vehemently than he usually did. Then Iron flung his hand up, a flash of bright blue light shining from his amulet, and the two enemies that Steelshield had been fighting both suddenly went flying.

Biting back several curses of his own, Steelshield forced himself to his feet. It took more effort than he expected. Most of the fighting was coming to an end, and it looked like everyone on their team was still mostly in one piece, so Steelshield didn't protest when Iron stormed up and started waving his arms around wildly.

"Damn it, I've told you to stop doing that!" Lord Iron said, his eyes flashing along with his amulet. Magic was practically pouring from him, like it always was when he wasn't focusing enough to keep it under control. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days, and then where would we be?"

Steelshield rolled his eyes. "Says the man who keeps forgetting to pay attention to anything that's not directly in front of him."

Lord Iron glared at him. "That's not funny," he muttered.

"I wasn't trying to be," Steelshield replied with a shrug. "You're leaking magic again, by the way."

Lord Iron opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything there was a loud roar nearby. Both of them spun around to face the direction the noise was coming from. A giant bear was barreling straight at them, its jaws and claws both streaming with blood of several different colors.

Steelshield and Iron met each other's gaze for just a second before they both threw themselves in opposite directions, out of the bear's path.

The bear came skidding to a halt almost exactly where they had been standing, its dark eyes glancing at Steelshield for a moment before focusing on Iron. It growled warningly at him.

The mage took a deep breath, obviously trying to get his powers back under control, and the blue glow that had been pouring out of his amulet finally started to fade. "I know, I know," Iron muttered, waving his hand in the bear's general direction. "I'm working on it. Give me a second, Hyde."

The bear let out one last roar before suddenly beginning to shrink. A moment later, the familiar form of a dwarf was kneeling on the ground where the bear had been standing. Jekyll looked up at the rest of them, a tired smile on his face. "Well, that was interesting."

Thor's voice rang out across the entire area as he stomped his way toward them, the giant hammer he always carried—one that was almost as large as Jekyll when he wasn't in his bear form—lightly flung over his shoulder. "Interesting? The word you're looking for is fun, Jekyll!"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes as he made his way toward them, carefully putting his bow away as he walked. He had the beginnings of an impressive black eye, but other than that he seemed fine. "You and I have very different definitions of fun, Thor."

"Most people have very different definitions of fun than you, Hawkeye," Widow said cheerfully, casually flipping a knife in one of her hands as she joined them. She reached out and flicked one of his pointed ears with her free hand as she walked by.

He was still sputtering as Warbird followed in Widow's footsteps, flicking his other ear as she kept on walking past. "Plus I expect our definitions of fun aren't illegal in over half of the country like yours."

Hawkeye glared at both of them. "Everyone's a comedian," he grumbled.

Thor tilted his head. "Illegal?" he repeated thoughtfully. "How illegal would you say that these particular—"

"You two can talk about it later," Warbird cut in. She shook her head. "Privately. With a lot less witnesses."

It was obvious that Thor was about to protest. Before he could, though, Jekyll looked around worriedly. "Has anyone seen Wasp?"

Everyone silenced immediately as they started to glance around the now deserted battlefield, and Steelshield frowned as he did the same. Wasp was small enough that she could be easily missed, and she was new enough to the team that most of them—himself included—tended to forget about her sometimes.

"I'm here!"

Wasp appeared out of what seemed almost like thin air, her wings an almost invisible blur behind her as she lowered herself to the ground in front of them.

"Sorry," she said, giving them all an apologetic look. "I managed to take care of a rogue, but he fell on top of me and, well—"

"You're small?" Hawkeye suggested.

Wasp shrugged. "Pretty much," she said. She glanced around, her brow furrowing. "Is anyone hurt?"

"Steelshield is," Lord Iron said instantly, pointing at Steelshield as if nobody would recognize what he was saying otherwise. "He managed to turn his shoulder into a bloody mess."

"While keeping you from getting shot in the back," Steelshield pointed out as most of the others turned in his direction.

Lord Iron waved a hand dismissively at him. "I wouldn't have gotten shot in the back."

"She had the arrow in the bow, Iron," Steelshield said in exasperation. "It was aimed straight at you."

"You're exaggerating," Lord Iron shot back.

"I may be new here," Wasp cut in, effectively stopping their argument before it even had a chance to get started, "but I seriously doubt that he's exaggerating."

Lord Iron crossed his arms and glared at the two of them, but he didn't say anything else.

Steelshield smiled. "Thank you, Wasp. Now, we should probably—"

"Sit down so that I can take a look at your shoulder?" Wasp said brightly. "What a coincidence, I was just about to say the same thing."

Lord Iron snorted.

Steelshield rolled his eyes. "I'm fine," he said. He glanced behind her. "Warbird, tell her I'm fine."

Warbird wasn't even trying to hide her smile. "You heard the lady, Steelshield."

"It's barely a scratch," Steelshield protested, trying to wave everyone off. He could tell by the looks on most of their faces, a combination of worry and amusement, that they didn't believe him. Shaking his head, he sat down on a nearby stump like Wasp had asked him to do.

Wasp shook her head as she knelt down beside him. She was tiny, smaller than any of them save Jekyll when he was in his original form, yet Steelshield could practically feel the power radiating from her as her right hand began to glow. Her wings were folded against her back, almost invisible unless you were looking.

"Barely a scratch, he says," she muttered as she placed her hand against his wound. It began to heal almost instantly. "If this is barely a scratch, I'd hate to see what you call an actual injury."

Widow snorted, a harsh sound that didn't seem to fit her lithe, elfin form. Wasp glanced sharply in her direction, although she didn't move her hand from Steve's shoulder.

"What's so amusing?" Wasp asked.

Widow shook her head. "You're new to our little band of misfits, Wasp," she said matter-of-factly. "Trust me when I say it takes a lot more than something like that to put Steelshield out of commission."

Hawkeye held up a finger. "You could even say—"

"No," Widow cut in.

Hawkeye glared at her. "I was just going to—"

"I know what you were going to say," Widow said matter-of-factly. "That's why I said 'no.'"

Wasp looked between the two of them, a confused look on her face. She still didn't let go of Steelshield's shoulder, though.

Lord Iron leaned a little closer to her. "Legolas there was about to make a really bad joke that we've all heard a million times," he mock whispered.

"As many times as you've called me Legolas, you have no right to complain about my jokes being bad," Hawkeye shot back.

Lord Iron grinned at him. "Whatever you say, Katniss."

Hawkeye held up his hand and made a gesture at Lord Iron that needed no explanation. Iron grinned and made one right back at him.

"Boys," Warbird said warningly.

"Boys?" Hawkeye repeated, sounding more than a little amused. "I'll have you know that I am a _man_, and if you don't believe me then I can show you my—"

"And we're done," Wasp said loudly, clapping her hands together as she finally let go of Steve.

Steelshield rolled his arm a few times. "Huh," he said, surprised, as he tentatively poked at his shoulder. "It's as if I never got hit."

"Which is why we now have a healer on the team," Widow pointed out. "Since Warbird and I are the only ones who know how to take care of ourselves and not end up injured after almost every fight."

Jekyll cleared his throat.

"And Jekyll," Widow added with a slight nod. "Most of the time, at least."

"Thank you," he said, smiling.

Steelshield shook his head, ignoring the conversations going on around him for the most part. Hawkeye and Thor were both trying to protest that they knew how to keep themselves from getting hurt during a skirmish, but Hawkeye's quickly darkening black eye and Thor's bloody knuckles—most likely from punching people in the face with his hands instead of actually using his weapon—weren't really points in their favor.

"Seriously, you need to stop getting hurt trying to protect me."

Steelshield looked up in surprise. Lord Iron was standing beside him, not quite meeting his gaze. He was talking barely above a whisper, and none of the others would be able to hear him.

"If you're not going to watch your own back, someone has to," Steelshield pointed out lightly.

Lord Iron frowned, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm not joking, Steelshield."

Steelshield met his gaze. "Neither am I, Iron," he said pointedly. "We're teammates. We're friends. That's what friends do."

"Oh," Lord Iron said, sounding startled.

* * *

_Goodnight!_

Steve yawned, stretching as his computer started to power down. He hadn't meant to stay online as long as he had, but—as was usually the case when most of his team managed to be online at the same time—he hadn't wanted to be the first to leave. At least it was Saturday. He didn't have anywhere to be the next day, so he could try to sleep in at least a little.

Shaking his head, reached down to rub his aching legs. He was careful not to actually look at them; even after almost a year, he wasn't used to seeing them come to an end just above his knees. It was getting easier, but still. Sometimes he just didn't want the visual reminder.

Stretching one more time to relieve some of the tension in his back, one of the many reasons he should have gotten offline much earlier, Steve rolled his wheelchair back from the computer desk. He wheeled it in a circle, aiming it in the direction of the door . . .

. . . and then he froze, blinking in surprise when he saw Bucky standing in the doorway.

Bucky brought his right hand up and gave it a wave. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Steve replied slowly. He tilted his head a little. "I thought your flight didn't get in until 10."

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

Steve grimaced as he reached up to run his fingers through his hair. "It's after 10, huh?" he asked sheepishly.

"Quarter past midnight," Bucky said brightly, "and my body's still on California time. Do we have any beer?"

"Probably," Steve said, steering himself toward the door. "We might even have some of the crappy stuff you like."

Bucky swatted him on the back as he rolled by. "Smartass."

"I try," Steve said, grinning as he glanced back at him.

Laughing, Bucky started to follow him down the hallway. "How have things been going since I left?" he asked. "Game wise, I mean."

"Same old things," Steve said, not glancing back as he rolled through the doorway in the kitchen. He stopped in front of the refrigerator, carefully opening it and looking inside. "We could have used you and Jessica tonight. Iron almost got himself killed."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Iron almost gets himself killed at least three times a week," he pointed out. "And he dies at least once a month."

Steve opened his mouth to protest. Then he closed it again. As much as he hated to admit it, the numbers sounded about right.

"Anything else important that I missed?" Bucky asked.

"Hawkeye tried to make that stupid joke about me being their version of Superman again." Steve smiled. "Widow stopped him from saying anything before any of us had to hurt him."

"That's because Widow's smarter than the rest of us combined." Bucky rolled his eyes. "And I said _important_," he pointed out. "If the story involves Hawkeye, it can't fit that description."

Steve snorted but didn't argue. "Wasp is finally started to get used to things," he said slowly, glancing back at Bucky for a second. "Carol was right. It really makes a difference having a healer on the team."

Bucky shuddered. "Carol was right. Three words that should never come out of anyone's mouth."

Steve rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the refrigerator. "I'm going to see her on Monday for lunch, you know. What makes you think I'm not going to tell her exactly what you just said?"

"Because if you do, I won't tell you about the gift I got you," Bucky said brightly. "Now, where's my beer?"

"If said gift involves you setting me up on another blind date, then you might want to avoid Carol offline and in game for the foreseeable future, because she's definitely going to hear about that comment you just made," Steve said, reaching in and grabbing a bottle from the fridge. Without looking back, he tossed it over his shoulder.

There was a loud curse from behind him, but it wasn't followed by the sound of breaking glass. Grinning a little, Steve grabbed a bottle for himself before shutting the door. He reached up and grabbed the bottle opener that was hanging on the refrigerator door thanks to a magnet on its back. Then he finally turned around.

Bucky glared at him, his hand wrapped tightly around his beer bottle. "That wasn't funny."

"You caught it, didn't you?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. He opened his own beer before tossing the bottle opener at Bucky, who caught it easily. "So, does it involve a blind date?"

The glare immediately faded into something much more shifty-looking.

Steve let out an exasperated sigh as he started moving toward the living room. "I don't need you setting me up on dates with women, Bucky."

There was a pause. "What about dates with men?" Bucky asked, his voice sounding much too innocent for Steve's taste.

"No," Steve said firmly.

Bucky paused again. "Is there an age thing going on? Because I can probably find some college freshmen who are legal but still look like they're—"

"_Bucky_."

"But what if—"

"I said, _no_," Steve repeated. "I don't want you trying to set me up on blind dates with anyone. Male, female, or otherwise. If I wanted to date people, then I'd date people. I'm not ready for that, and you know it."

Bucky made a disgruntled sound, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he dodged around Steve's wheelchair in order to throw himself at the sofa and sprawl out.

Steve rolled his eyes as he came to a stop a few feet away from the sofa. He took a deep swig of beer.

"I thought you were trying not to use the chair as much?" Bucky asked suddenly. He propped himself up with his right arm, peering over the arm of the sofa at Steve.

It took most of Steve's willpower to keep from going off into a coughing fit. As it was, he couldn't stop himself from grimacing as he swallowed his beer. "Yeah, there's been a slight change in plans."

Bucky sat up, all traces of humor disappearing from his face in an instant. "Don't tell me it's infected again?"

Steve managed a half-hearted shrug. "Lucky me, huh?" he asked with a self-deprecating grin. "They're adjusting the prosthetics again to see if they can stop the skin from rubbing raw quite so often. They want me to use the chair exclusively for at least two weeks, though. Maybe more, depending on how it heals this time."

"Why didn't you call me?" Bucky asked, frowning at him.

Steve shrugged again. "You and Jessica had things to do while you were in California," he said. "There wasn't anything you could do to help, so I didn't see the point in bothering you."

Bucky shook his head. "Still, Steve. You should have called." He reached up to run his fingers through his hair. "It's been months since you had to use the chair fulltime. I thought for sure they'd fixed the problem with the prosthetics."

Steve shrugged. "What do you want me to say? Life isn't always fair."

Neither of them said anything for a second. Then Bucky looked down at his left arm, polished metal rather than flesh. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, "sometimes it really isn't."

* * *

"Rogers!"

Steve shook his head in amusement as he caught sight of Carol. She had been sitting a table near the host stand of the small outdoor café, but she had apparently already seen him. She was standing up now, waving at him as if she thought there was a chance he might not see or hear her.

He raised his hand and gave her a quick wave before focusing his attention on weaving through the late lunch crowd in her direction.

Carol's eyes were twinkling as he arrived at the table, wheeling his chair into the empty space where a chair had already been removed. "You're late."

"Blame Bucky," Steve replied with a shrug. "I am."

She raised an eyebrow as she sat back down. "What on earth did he do this time?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "He decided that—"

Carol held up her hand, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. "Forget I asked. I don't want to know."

Steve raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he grabbed the glass of iced tea waiting beside his plate and took a sip. "No menus?" he asked, glancing at the table. "Did you already order?"

"It's not like you ever try anything new," Carol pointed out, her eyes twinkling. "You get the same exact thing every time that we come here."

Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Maybe I was going to switch things up for once."

Carol gave him a pointed look. "Were you?"

He met her gaze for a few seconds, staring back at her without blinking. Then his blank expression slowly faded into a sheepish grin.

"Surprise, surprise," Carol said, not even trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

It took more effort than Steve was willing to admit not to stick his tongue out at her. If there hadn't been that small voice in his head pointing out that she outranked him, or at least she had, he probably wouldn't have been able to resist.

As if she could read his mind, Carol made a face.

"What's that for?" Steve asked lightly.

"If you'd been here when you were supposed to, you would have caught the show," she said dryly. "It cleared out just a few minutes before you got here."

Steve blinked. "Show?"

She gestured up at Stark Tower, hovering above them and taking up most of the skyline. "The Starks came strolling by on their way to the Tower for some big announcement that's bound to be all over the news in an hour or two. Tony Stark was waving and blowing kisses and making a complete spectacle of himself." She paused for a second before adding, with a snort, "as usual."

Steve couldn't help but smile, just a little. The way Carol was talking, it was almost as if she knew Tony Stark personally.

Carol shook her head. "The hostess practically threw herself at him." She paused. "So did our waiter, for that matter. And about half the people in the general area."

Steve chuckled despite himself. "You can't really blame them, I guess."

There was a pause. Then Carol raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you start now," Steve told her warningly.

Her mouth twitched. "Well, I guess that tells me just what Bucky's been doing to piss you off," she said. "More blind dates?"

Steve nodded. "More blind dates."

Carol shuddered. Steve could tell it was fake; it was too obvious and theatrical to be anything but staged. Still, he couldn't help but feel grateful that she was at least trying.

Well, and maybe just a little pathetic.

"Did I tell you that I'm thinking about taking some game design classes at NYU this fall, if things go well?" Steve asked suddenly. "I thought it might be something fun to try, all things considering."

Carol snorted, but she didn't call him on his not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. She was good like that.

"Go ahead," Steve said, bowing his head slightly. "Say it. You know that you want to."

"I told you that you'd like gaming if you ever gave it a shot," she said lightly.

Steve nodded, getting ready to agree with her—and possibly give her a heart attack from the shock—but before he could say anything their waiter appeared with two plates of food in his hands. They both nodded their thanks at him before immediately digging into their food, conversation forgotten for the next few minutes at least.

"What are you doing next?" Carol asked suddenly, waving her salad fork somewhat in his direction. "This afternoon, I mean. Do you have a session, or—?"

Surprised, Steve finished swallowing the bite of burger he had in his mouth. "Yeah, I have PT," he told her with a grimace, "but since they've already told me that I'm stuck in the chair for at least two weeks, I'm not expecting it to go that well."

* * *

"Come on, Steelshield, you're with me on this, right?" Hawkeye pleaded. It might have been more convincing if Widow hadn't been all but holding him upright while Wasp tried to heal the rather large and gaping hole in his leg.

Steelshield crossed his arms in front of his chest and didn't say anything.

Warbird leaned over a little closer to Hawkeye. "I think that means 'no,'" she told him.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Come on," he protested, "it worked, didn't it? How was I supposed to know that ogre was going to throw a spear at that very moment?"

"Well, the last time I looked, there was this thing called 'using your eyes,'" Winter Warrior pointed out. He sounded overly innocent.

Red Spider elbowed him in the stomach. "Behave," she told him warningly.

"Come on, Jess, don't—"

"Spider," she said, cutting in sharply. "Call me Spider in-game, remember?"

Winter Warrior snorted. "Really? It's not like anyone is going to—"

Steelshield turned and walked away, letting the various conversations going on around him wash over him. He wasn't actually listening to any of them, though, and—judging by the lack of comments when he left—nobody was really paying much attention to him either.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat down on a fallen tree a little bit away from the rest of his team. He knew that, technically, he should be over there arguing with Hawkeye and keeping Spider from strangling Winter Warrior—either in-game or offline, for that matter, as their arguments tended cross between the two fairly easily—but his heart just wasn't in it. He'd been tempted to let Warbird lead the mission tonight, but he'd decided against it at the last minute. Not for the first time, he was regretting that decision.

Someone cleared their throat.

Reluctantly, Steelshield looked up. Lord Iron was standing a few feet away from him, uncomfortably shuffling his feet. The others were still arguing among themselves where he had left them, although it looked as if Spider now had Winter Warrior pinned to the ground with a rather large mace that he was almost completely certain wasn't actually hers.

Iron bit his lip at the silence.

"What can I do for you, Lord Iron?" Steelshield asked with as much energy as he could muster.

Judging by the look on Iron's face, it wasn't much.

"Mind if we talk?" Iron asked. He sounded almost hesitant.

Steelshield glanced at him, frowning a little. "Why would I mind?"

"Privately?" Iron asked hopefully.

Raising an eyebrow, Steelshield glanced around. Hawkeye was on the ground beside Winter Warrior, both of them holding their hands up in a placating manner as their female teammates threatened them with a variety of sharp objects. Steelshield wasn't entirely certain what they had said—he hadn't been paying nearly as much attention as he should, considering he knew tensions were always high after a fight—but it was obvious that nobody was paying them any mind.

"I think we're as private as we're going to get," Steelshield told him, a hint of humor making its way into his voice.

Lord Iron glanced in the direction of them team and grimaced. "I guess you're right about that," he agreed. He took a deep breath. "So—I've got to ask. Do you live in New York or are you just from there originally?"

Steelshield blanched. "How did you—?"

"Nobody talks about the Mets with as much fondness as you do unless they're actually from there," Iron said. "Trust me, I'd know."

"You live in New York too?" Steelshield asked in surprise.

"Ah ha!" Lord Iron exclaimed. "So you _do_ still live in the city!"

Steelshield froze as he realized what he'd just said. He was tempted to deny it, but—if he was honest with himself—it's not like it would really hurt to admit that he was one of the eight million or so people who lived in New York. "Fine, you got me. Yes, I live there."

Lord Iron grinned at him. "That's perfect then!"

Steelshield stared at him. "Why?" he asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know the answer.

Lord Iron gave him a look that clearly stated he was unimpressed. "Well, obviously, if we both live in New York then it shouldn't be nearly as difficult."

Steelshield paused for a moment, running the last few minutes' worth of conversation over in his head. "What shouldn't be nearly as difficult?" he asked reluctantly, not entirely certain he wanted to know.

Lord Iron blinked in surprise. "Well, I thought it would be fun to meet up. Face-to-face, I mean."

"What?" Steelshield blurted out before he even had a chance to think about it. "Why?"

"You said it yourself, we're friends," Iron said, sounding confused. Or possibly nervous. "I figured, well, if we're friends, then maybe we should actually _meet_."

Steelshield stared at him.

Lord Iron stared right back, unblinking. "You don't want to meet offline," he said. There was no doubt that it was a statement, not a question.

There was also no denying the fact that Steelshield could _tell_ that he was hurt.

Steelshield closed his eyes for a second. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he shook his head. "I didn't say that."

Iron made a sound that could only be described as "whoo!"

Steelshield opened his eyes to the sight of Lord Iron doing what looked suspiciously like a dance. He couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing at the sight.

Iron grinned at him. "So, do you have a name?" he asked. "Or am I going to be doomed to calling you Steelshield for the rest of eternity?"

Steelshield raised an eyebrow.

Iron grinned at him. "What?" he asked. "Come on, Steelshield, inquiring minds want to know."

For a moment, Steelshield kept quiet. Then he sighed, more in amusement than anything else. "Steve. My name's Steve."

If anything, Lord Iron's grin grew even wider. "Nice to meet you, Steve."

"We've known each other for almost a year, Iron."

"Well, yeah," Iron admitted. "Technically. But it's not the same. And it's Tony. My name's Tony."

* * *

Steve frowned as he reached into the fridge and pulled out the half-empty carton of milk. "Iron wants to meet me for coffee," he told Bucky as he opened it and sniffed at the liquid inside.

"Jessica and I had awesome make-up sex last night."

Making a face, Steve rolled over to the sink and dumped the remainder of the milk down the drain. "Good for you," he said dryly. "What does that have to do with me meeting Iron for coffee?"

Bucky looked up at that. "Wait, are you talking about actual coffee? I thought that was a code word for sex."

Steve stared at him. "Why are we friends again?"

"Because I know all of your dark and dirty secrets," Bucky said brightly.

"And I know yours," Steve pointed out. "That's a much longer list, by the way."

Bucky rolled his eyes and took a large bite of cereal. Then he froze.

Steve held up the milk carton that he had just emptied. "The milk's bad."

With an outspoken "blech," Bucky spat the mouthful of cereal he'd just eaten back into the bowl. "Yeah, I figured that out. So, are you going to go?"

"Go where?" Steve asked, dropping the milk carton in the recycling bin.

Bucky gave him an annoyed look. "Coffee, with Lord Iron. And are you going to call him Lord Iron in public? Because I'd pay to see that."

Steve rolled his eyes. "His name's Tony."

"Okay then, coffee with Tony," Bucky corrected. "Well?"

Steve shrugged. "I told him that I'd be there."

Bucky studied him for a moment. "And will you?" he asked shrewdly.

For a minute, Steve didn't reply. Then he shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I mean, you always hear horror stories about meeting people that you met online in person."

"You know me, Carol, and Jessica in real life," Bucky pointed out.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I've known you since I was a toddler," he pointed out. "And Carol's the one who convinced me to start playing in the first place, remember? What with the two of us serving together for almost two years?"

"Okay, fine," Bucky admitted reluctantly, "but you definitely met Jessica in-game long before you met her offline."

"Because she already knew you offline," Steve said exasperatedly, "which is the only reason she joined the team in-game in the first place."

Bucky started to reply. Then he apparently thought better of it and closed his mouth.

Steve groaned. "Why on earth did I agree to meet up with him offline? It's going to blow up in my face. I know that it is."

"Come on, Steve, you don't _know_ that—"

"Deadpool," Steve said, cutting in. "Think about how badly meeting up with him went."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "First of all, you decided to meet up with someone who calls himself Deadpool, Supreme Ruler of the Multiverse," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "You should have known from the beginning that meeting wasn't going to go well, even before you found out that he was convinced we're all a bunch of fictional characters."

Steve shot him an unimpressed look.

Bucky had the good sense to look at least a little guilty. "Okay, okay, I'm willing to take the blame for Wade."

"Since it was your fault, I'd hope so."

"Well, what about Widow?" Bucky asked. "I met her offline _after_ I got to know her online, and at the very least she's not convinced we're figments of someone's imagination."

Steve stared at him.

Bucky gave him an overly innocent look.

"Bucky," Steve said slowly, "When did you mean Widow? You never told me that you'd met Widow."

Bucky's eyes suddenly went shifty, although he didn't drop the innocent appeal.

Steve stared at him for a moment. "Bucky," he asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know the answer, "have you slept with Widow?"

The silence was more than enough of an answer.

"Does Jessica know that you've slept with Widow?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

If anything, Bucky's expression became even shiftier.

Steve let out a startled laugh. He recognized that look, even if it had been some time since he'd seen it. "Has Jessica slept with Widow?"

"I refuse to confirm or deny anything," Bucky finally choked out.

Shaking his head, Steve reached up to run his temples. "I hate to tell you this, Barnes, but your poker face needs some work."

* * *

The pieces all came together much too late to do Steve any good.

There was no doubt in his mind that the man trying his best to not be noticed in the doorway of the coffee shop was Tony. He was a few years older than Steve, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, wearing worn jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that had seen better days, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he subtly tried to survey the not-very-crowded room.

Still, there was just _something_ about him that convinced Steve that he was Tony.

. . . if he was honest with himself, it probably had something to do with the fact that he was wearing a glowing blue amulet identical to the one that Lord Iron wore in-game.

For just a second, Steve hesitated. Then, before he could think about it too hard, he raised his hand and waved.

The man in the doorway—Tony, it had to be Tony—grinned at him, bright and completely unguarded before waving back and making his way to where Steve was sitting by the window. Tony hadn't been expecting the wheelchair. Steve could see it on his face. To his credit, though, he didn't even mention it. He just grabbed the chair across from Steve and sat down.

"I really hope you're Steve, because this is about to get really awkward otherwise," Tony said, winking at him.

Steve grinned, cautious and somewhat guarded, but still more honest than he had expected it to be. "Lord Iron, I presume?"

"Steelshield," Tony said, giving him a mock bow without actually getting up out of his seat. "Good, you _are_ Steve."

It was right then that Steve realized just who was sitting across from him. His mouth dropped open.

"And you're Tony Stark," Steve said, not even trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Tony flinched, just a little. Most people probably wouldn't even have noticed, but Steve was good at picking up the subtle things when he needed to be. If nothing else, it helped Steve try to push his surprise aside, at least for the moment.

"You, uh, recognized me, huh?" Tony asked. It sounded as if he was aiming for nonchalant, but he didn't quite make it.

Steve tried to hide his smile, but he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching at least a little. "It's kind of hard not to," he said, gesturing at the bus stop just outside the window. An ad for the newest StarkPhone was on it, featuring a larger than life picture of Tony.

Tony grimaced as he glanced at the advertisement for a second before looking away. "I told my father that I didn't want him to use the ads with me on them in New York." Then, without even pausing for a breath, he stood up. "I'm getting coffee. Do you want coffee? Of course you do, why wouldn't you?"

Before Steve could even say a word, Tony had jumped out of his seat and was heading toward the front register. He stared at his back, trying to get his jumbled thoughts into something resembling order.

At least it was going better than the incident with Deadpool.

* * *

It had been easier to talk to Tony than Steve had expected. He shouldn't have been so startled. They had spent almost a year talking with each other online for hours. Still, it had caught him by surprise.

"Did you pay them to kick everyone else out of the coffee shop?" Steve asked suspiciously, glancing around the completely empty room.

Tony shrugged, not even trying to look repentant. "I bought them all drinks first."

Steve was still trying to come up with a proper response when the bell over the door rang. He could hear the barista telling whoever it was that they were closed for an hour or so, just like she had done for the last five or six people who had tried to come in. And then he heard the familiar voice.

"I'm going to kill him," Steve muttered under his breath, grabbing for his phone.

Tony glanced at him, a confused look on his face. "What did I do?"

Steve shook his head as he quickly typed a quick text message. "No, not you. It's—"

He was cut off by a loud scraping noise, caused by a chair from another table being pushed over to theirs. Then Bucky dropped down in the chair, studying Tony's face carefully as he pointedly ignored Steve.

Tony stared back at him.

"You're exactly how I pictured you," Bucky said, grinning. "Well, maybe a little shorter, but still. Close enough."

Tony kept staring at him. "Do I even know you?"

Bucky leaned back in his chair. "I don't know," he said slowly, "do you?"

"Bucky, knock it off," Steve cut in, shooting his roommate a pointed glare. "Tony, this is Winter Warrior. He apparently doesn't understand what the word 'no' means and decided to follow me when I left our apartment."

Tony startled, glancing between the two of them. "Your apartment?" he asked, sounding surprised. "So the two of you are—?"

"Oh, we're married," Bucky said, putting his arm around Steve's shoulder. "Newlyweds. Can't you tell?"

Tony's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out.

Steve shrugged Bucky's arm off of his shoulder. "Will you knock it off already, you numbskull?" he grumbled. "Ignore him, Iron. Tony. Pretty much nothing that comes out of his mouth is even remotely true."

"I'm hurt," Bucky said, bring his hands up to theatrically cover his chest. "Hurt, I tell you. After I came all this way to make certain this wasn't a replay of the Wade incident."

"You're about to be hurt," Steve said, holding up his phone. "I just sent her a text."

Bucky's theatrics disappeared instantly. "You didn't."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

Bucky gaped at him for a second. Then he rolled his eyes and stood up. "Let's see if I ever do you a favor again."

"Please don't!" Steve called.

Bucky flipped him a bird as he walked past the poor barista, who was staring at all of them like she didn't have a clue what was happening. Not that Steve could blame her.

Tony tilted his head. "What just happened?"

Steve managed a halfhearted shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Ah." Tony paused for a second. "So you're not dating him, right? Because I'm going to have to rethink our friendship if your taste is that bad."

Steve didn't even bother with a response. He just rolled his eyes and put his phone away.

"I just sent Jessica a text, so hopefully she'll deal with him."

Tony looked confused again. "Jessica?"

"Oh, sorry." Steve felt his face flush a bit. "Jessica is Red Spider. You've met her a few times. She and Bucky are, uh. Well, they're—"

"Dating?" Tony suggested.

Steve shook his head. "That's not quite the word I'd use, no."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Fuck buddies?"

"That's not—" Steve trailed off. "Actually, yes, that is probably the word I'd use, but I really suggest you never use it in front of either of them."

The grin that appeared on Tony's face told Steve instantly just how well that warning had gone over.

* * *

"Why is Spider trying to turn Iron into a pincushion?" Wasp asked curiously. She flinched as a small dagger managed to get through Lord Iron's defenses, cutting his arm.

"Because Iron's an idiot," Steelshield said, shaking his head.

Wasp glanced at him. "That's not something new, though, is it?"

"Nope!" Winter Warrior said cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder as he walked up to stand beside Steve. "He's just using some newfound knowledge to prove it's true beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Wasp stared at him. Then she glanced at Steelshield. "It's Winter Warrior's fault, isn't it?"

"Hey!" Winter Warrior protested.

"You're learning," Steelshield said tiredly. Then he grimaced as another one of Spider's knives made it through Lord Iron's magical shields. He raised his voice. "Spider, don't kill our mage!"

She stopped throwing knives long enough to glance in Steelshield's direction. "I'm not going to kill him!" she called back. "I'm just going to maim him a little!"

Iron held up his bleeding arm. "I'm already maimed!" he protested.

"It's just a flesh wound!" Winter Warrior yelled.

Hawkeye burst out laughing. Everyone else shot him unimpressed looks.

"Shut up, Bucky," Steelshield said, more out of instinct than anything else.

Winter Warrior gave him an amused look. "It's Winter Warrior in-game, remember?" He raised his eyebrows. "Unless you have other things on your mind?"

Steelshield glared at him. "Shut. Up. Bucky."

The look Winter Warrior gave him was a knowing one. "Whatever you say," he said, clapping Steelshield's arm.

Of course, it was right then that everything went straight to hell.

* * *

"An ambush," Steelshield muttered, ducking to avoid a volley of arrows. "I can't believe we walked right into an ambush."

Warbird snorted as she dodged to the right of him. "Well, you better start believing it."

He glanced at her. "Status?"

"Bucky's dead," she said matter-of-factly. "God only knows how long it will take him to get a body again and get back here."

Steelshield rolled his eyes. "I live in the same apartment as him, remember? Our neighbors are going to start banging on the wall if he doesn't stop ranting about it soon."

Warbird grinned at him. "Hyde's around here somewhere. No idea about Spider. Hawkeye and Wasp are still alive, the last I saw at least."

"What about Iron?" Steelshield asked.

Warbird gave him a quick shrug before bringing her sword up to catch the barbarian sneaking up on them in the chest. "It's Tony. Who knows?"

Steelshield froze for just a second.

Warbird laughed. "Who do you think introduced me to this game, Rogers?" she asked lightly. "I do contract work, remember?"

And then she was off and running, her swords flashing in the sunlight.

There was a shout from behind him, and Steelshield jerked back to awareness. He spun around, bringing his shield up.

The elf that had been sneaking up on him went flying in the opposite direction.

Steelshield blinked.

Lord Iron gave him a salute, his amulet glowing bright in the center of his chest.

"Thanks!" Steelshield called out.

Iron smiled. "That's what friends do, remember?" he said. "And we're friends, right?"

Steelshield stared at him for a moment, the memory of dark eyes and an open smile flashing in his head for a second. "Yeah," he finally managed to agree, "we are."

Friends was a starting point, at least.


End file.
